Sacred Blood
by Amber Inksoul
Summary: (Main idea taken from The Shapeshifter) 'You all carry sacred blood through your veins. And sometimes, we cant help letting some of that blood spill...'
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One~

Two more minutes. Only two left. Two more minutes of reliving the violence of the French Revolution. Two more minutes spent wishing I was two thousand metres up a slim-barked willow tree, the light breeze dissolving against my catlike face.

But no. Instead, I am sat in the second row of my freezing cold History classroom, watching my clouds of cold breath wafting away into the bitter early autumn air. I dreamt of a jungle so prosperous that even the smallest cluster of berries could paint the most picturesque of sunsets.

"Sierra!" a scornful voice pulls me back into reality, slamming my back into painful ground. I blinked my grey-blue eyes. I had not been concentrating, and now I would pay the ultimate price.

"Sierra, can you tell me what year the French Revolution was finally declared _over_?"

My face crumbled.

"erm.." I mumbled. A few of the girls on back row giggled cruelly. I bit the inside of my cheek anxiously.

"I... I..."

"Have you been listening at _all_ , Sierra?" Miss Jameson, a rather strict and self-righteous woman, snapped. One minute to go. _Oh, bell, please ring earlier..._

"y... yes I have been..." I lied. It felt so bad to lie, but saying no would result in the larger price.

Could year seven get much worse?

"Ah, so you have been," she purred to herself, "So tell me, when was it declared over, Sierra?"

I mentally imagined myself leaving Miss Jameson in a jungle to fend for herself. Oh, how hard she would find it with no textbooks, no computers and no phones. I imagined her eating a poison ivy leaf by accident, and of smoke emerging from her ears as a chimpanzee bit her on her fat bottom.

Well, year seven could be worse.

"Well, you see," I began, talking in a hushed mutter, "Um, W-well, the French Revolution I... is..." I tried to look like I was coming up with a flawless answer.

The ball rang. A noisy, commanding trill of safety. I sighed as if I _really hated_ being interrupted, and then mutually packed up my books.

Miss Jameson rolled her snakelike, sunken brown eyes, "I want the answer for next lesson, Sierra!"

I nodded reluctantly and swung my self-painted backpack over one shoulder. A 'tree of life' key-ring jangled from my sudden movement.

As usual, I walked to my fourth lesson alone. Just like every lesson; just like every day. I didn't need friends! Life is sometimes best spent alone.

Even due to my lack of amiable company, I couldn't help risking the slightest of smiles. _We had Environmental Science next!_ It was one of very few lesson I enjoyed. My emotions immediately lifted at the thought.

A couple steps down the hallway. I could sense the presence of something coming up behind me.

"Oh, look. It's Sierra!" He greeted, in that sarcastic pantomime voice. A girl with ridiculously unnatural hair (her pale pink highlights were unmistakably dyed and her hair much too yellow blonde) came up next to him. Mina. I've never liked Mina. Much too bold and brash; too confident in her own skin. Less than mediocre.

I lowered my arched eyebrows, "Hello.." I greeted sullenly.

Mina nudged him and giggled. Probably her 89th boyfriend or something. I turned on my heel and continued to walk towards D4, my biology room. Mina followed me after parting with him, and walked way too close to me. It sent uncomfortable feelings around my head.

"Nice bad, Sierra." The colourful-haired girl attempted to make small talk. At least she used my chosen name, "Poundland? 99p Store? I think I saw it."

I seethed with annoyance and anger, "No, actually," I spat, not turning around, "It was from a shop in town. I painted it myself."

The bag itself was plain white and made of faux leather. I'd had it for three years now, and on the first year of ownership I had chosen to splatter it with dots of green paint.

Sure that Mina had meant to aggravate me, I quickened my pace. Unfortunately, so did she.

"Extremely neat painting." She commented snippily. I bit the inside of my cheek. _Don't let her get to you, Sierra._

I approached the Biology door, and furiously swung it open. I swung it closed with so much fury, that I forgot about the bully standing behind me. Mina yelped in pain, and I turned around to see her crying, her arm trapped in the doorframe. She quickly extracted her arm, but there was no mistaking her pain.

"Ow, Ow! Sierra, what was that for?!" She wailed bitterly. Even in pain, she wanted to make a fool out of me and make a bit of melodrama. Honestly, was she really 12 years old?

Mrs Seggram, my second favourite teacher in the school, ran up to us and began to calm her down. I stood there awkwardly, not knowing whether to sit down or not. The short but kind-hearted teacher then turned to me. Mrs Seggram has always adored my love for plants and geography. Whatever fragilre bond we had was sure to be broken now.

The whole class fell silent, and listened to Mina sobbing.

"Sierra," My teacher commanded sternly, "I would like you to go over to C11."

I gulped in horror. C11, the referall room.

"B...But Mrs S-" I began to plead.

"No buts, Sierra. Come back once you are sent back." She interrupted firmly.

I wiped beads of silver, nervous sweat from my forehead, exiting the classroom without a second thought.

 _And, that's when I felt an itch on my finger..._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two~

Referall room. I'd heard it talked about around school. Its where the worst-behaved children spent most of their days. The place where laughing is against the law; where smiling is punishable by an eternity of detentions; where you are forever respected by your peers for having survived at least an hour.

I wasn't a bad person. Or was I? I did injure Mina, and for quite a petty reason. Maybe I really am a bad person. Maybe I deserve this.

"Sierra Kuhioli," I voice droned, "Please come in."

I exhaled steadily, concentrating on my breathing patterns. Then I stepped in, overcome by fright. My fingers were becoming frustratingly itchy.

" _Why_ have you been sent here?" I tried not to laugh for my life's sake. I was faced by a blob monster. Her glasses were much too large; her nose much too bulbous. Her shirt collar was hidden under at least five chins, but I wasn't going to risk counting. She looked like she least friendly person I'd ever met.

"I... erm... shut Mina's arm in a doorframe." I stuttered, loosing any spells of confidence I had had, like a candle flame being blown out by a forceful puff of breath.

The woman _didn't even_ look up from her computer, "And, you did this... why?"

I scratched my index fingers. _So itchy..._

"I was angry with her..." I stated, sure that I had said the wrong thing. I nervously itched my thumbs.

"Ah, so you were provoked..?" She shut down her computer and stared me down. Her eyes seemed to sneer at me. No wonder all the popular kids hated referalls.

"Y... Yes..." A pungent scent filled my nose. I couldn't figure out what it was, but it made me feel slightly woozy. The woman's bad taste in perfume, perhaps?

" _how were you provoked_ , Miss Kuhioli?" She insisted, getting angry with my short answers.

Tucking one of my dark blonde plaits behind my left shoulder, I furiously itched my pinkies. I didn't give a stuff about this woman or her questions!

The sneering lady began to wrinkle her swollen nose. I imagined an gorilla curled around it like it was a baobab tree.

My imagination really was getting out of hand.

" _Miss Kuhioli,_ I-" She had an immense coughing fit before composing herself, "I... I'm afraid we require an answer."

I looked down at my hands uncooperatively. The air down there seemed tinted green, or was it just my vision? My fingers were so sore. Raising my hand to rest it on the table, a light bulb went off in my head. My hands were creating, or emanating, this weird green spore.

"Sierra, if you do not speak," She rasped, "I'm afraid you will sit here until you provide me with an answer."

I myself produced a series of rattling coughs now. I put my hand close to my mouth to stop the coughs, but my lungs felt blocked. Initiatively, I removed my limp hand.

 _A strange green spore that is most likely harmful... Great!_

For some reason, I didn't find this _too_ weird. Maybe it was just my intense imagination filling in the gaps. Either that or I'm just dense and insensitive. The spores didn't affect me as badly as it affected _her_.

"Urm..." she slurred, "I feel a little woozy..."

I could see the once-clear air in the room taking on a greenish tint. For some reason, the spores were multiplying, and there is nothing I could do to prevent that.

"eugh." The woman let out a disgusted groan, followed by more, "eughh!"

She doubled over, coughing and spluttering. She managed to get up, and move out of her seat.

"GAS LEAK," she spluttered, "CHEMICAL SPILLAGE, G-GET OUT!"

I got out of my chair, my throat screaming for clean air, before she could stop me. I looked back over my shoulder, to watch her swatting out invisible flies. Hallucinations?

My bag was on my back in a few seconds, and I was sprinting through the corridors. An alarm went off around the time I was at B level. My heart did multiple flips. I'd never been so scared in my life. I needed to get out of here. Nobody needed to know. _Nobody needed to know..._

Of course there was the issue of the harmful gas streaming from my fingertips. But, you know, that's no oddity.

Children were being evacuated from their classrooms, teachers with their hands over their mouths.

The air wasn't too contaminated here. Somehow I just _knew._ The worst damage has been done to C11. Maybe the rooms around there... _maybe the whole school..._

My fingers were sore, but the air was no longer green down there. Maybe they had stopped. _Oh, please say they had._

My school tie fell off as I ran, but I couldn't care less. I didn't stop to pick it up. You make rash decisions in a rush.

Finally, I've reached the front gates! I couldn't help smiling in relief. Pausing to glare at the cheesy ' _you are now leaving Hawthorne Academy!'_ sign, I slowly walked down the steps, and didn't stop once until I reached my house, and unlocked the front door with the spare key.

Suddenly, a thought popped into my head.

 _What will I say if mum's home early?_

For the second time that day, I decided upon lying. Oops.

 _Oh well, I better be a good liar..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note- Hey, I'm Amber (in case you hadn't already seen from the username :p). Be sure to leave reviews below, I love hearing constructive criticism. Thanks, and enjoy! x**

Chapter Three

 _Whew!_

Much to my luck, mum was not home early. There was still about an hour until my mum got back from work. Normally it was, anyway.

There was no way of getting me back out there. Into the open, where every step I take is one of danger. So, I resorted to the _clear, only way of safety._ Watching TV in the living room. All the normal, boring stuff. _House auctions, teleshopping, the news and childish, grainy cartoons._ Hang on- the news! I casually pressed a button on our remote, changing the image on the screen in front of me.

"Todays headlines..." the pretty looking lady on screen babbled, "Hawaii undergoes a ferocious cyber attack, the worldwide legend who has died at 87 and the suspected _chlorine gas, terrorism attack_ on a secondary school in Polperro."

I could barely speak. The initial shock was like an electric slap to the face, leaving me speechless and struck. My school, on the news, of all the other small things they could have put in. They had to put it in. All because I shut Mina's arm in the door, for all I knew. _Stupid, stupid Sierra..._

The next half hour was bitter. I cried helplessly into our cyan-blue pillow, overcome with shock. I watched the news story through blurred, wet eyes. The lady spoke of the suspected use of 'chlorine gas', and the non-reversible damage it had done to three classrooms. It certainly was not chlorine, nor the work of some evil terrorist! A small sliver of light in the dark hallway was that the news team didn't make the trip down to our school, but instead the 'police were called, and are now undergoing an investigation'.

Tears streamed down my face. A few worked their way into my mouth, leaving my saliva to taste of salty despair. My throat seemed no longer to work any longer, producing a series of gargling noises that always occupy crying. That's it. All my hope extinguished like a flame. They'll come for me soon; lock me in jail. They'll put two and two together. They'll force me to tell the truth.

But do I really know the truth? What happened back there, magic or something? Or simply just a trick of my imagination? I examined my fingers closely. No damage, not even a slight alteration. I don't know what I expected. Green fingers? No fingers at all?

That's when I realised what needed to be done. I had half an hour to perform one of my greatest abilities: sugar coating.

Determinedly, I power-walked to the local neighbourhood store. I opened the door, the tingle of the entry bell trilling joyously. I eyed up the biscotti, before deciding to pick up the almond one (my mum's _particular_ favourite). I also picked up a packet of herbal tea bags, and some coffee beans for mum. We were running low anyway. I think. I hope.

Feeling positive, I placed the ingredients on the counter without even looking up at the store clerk. Unluckily, it was Miss Cratts. The grumpiest old bat the world has ever seen.

"Shouldn't you be in school, Sierra?" she tutted dryly, scanning my biscotti. That's when I realised who she was. I gulped. Hard.

"Yes, I should." I agreed, settling on my old good friend _lies_ for the third time that day, "But there has been a Chlorine Gas attack. It... It was terrifying. We were all dismissed early."

The wrinkly, mean woman laughed. Well, it sounded more like a continuous frog burp but you get my drift.

"I'm not soft like your mother!" she claimed, enjoying the joke at my mother's expense. I looked hurt, but said nothing. Stupid old bat.

Irritated, I shot back, "Do you ever watch the news or read the papers? I promise you, its the truth!"

She bagged my three items, a exasperated frown displaying on her cracked lips.

"Here's your gobbledegook. Have a, erm, _smashing_ day!" I bit the inside of my cheek, grabbed my items and headed outside. Nevertheless, I heard her mutter _terrible day_ under her breath.

I returned home and flicked our noisy kettle on. Eight minutes to go. After preparing the herbal tea and the coffee, I placed our biscotti on two small plates. At this point, I'm literally shoving all thoughts to the sides of my mind. All the questions, fear and more questions were all launching themselves into my attention, only to get thrown back. I pushed my likely future in jail to one side, and focused on pouring hot water into our patterned mugs. I placed the two plates in the dining room, twirling my fingers around the flowers in the centre of the table. I moved the vase to a flawless position, arranging the stems in a uniform fashion whilst staring aimlessly into space. I watched the tea's steam tailing off into the cosy, warm air of our home. My attention was drawn back to the bouquet as I arranged the last leaves.

What happened next was so incredible that any person in the world would stop, and stare.

Sleekly, the stalks of the flowers lengthened. Smaller shoots grew from the,, and from those grew abundance of colourful, exotic gerberas. Slim, lacelike leaves grew from the stems. The bouquet looked healthy enough to be growing deep in the Amazon Jungle.

I took my hand away for one, awestruck moment. The growing ceased. If I kept my hand right there, on that stem forever, would it carry on growing until it reached the clouds?

I inhaled steadily. This was getting too weird. What else can I do?

I put my limp, slightly shaky hand back to the bright bunch of gerberas. As if a silent command had been given, they began thickening and turning into what I can only describe as a bigger bunch of rainbows.

Asking questions that I, myself, cannot answer is a fruitless exercise. There's no point asking myself 'why can I do this?' or 'Why can nobody else do this?'. It's better to sleep on things; to go about them as if they were normality. So that's what I did.

Abruptly, there were three shortened knocks at the door. My hearts danced.

 _Mother!_ I thought, _Finally!_

I prepared a line to say as I opened the door: 'Finally, your coffee's going cold!' and carefully turned the doorknob. Our white door opened.

"Fina-"

But the man facing me was not my kind-faced mother.

"Hello, I'm Ed Cedar. You're Sierra? Can we 'ave a chat?"


End file.
